


When You Can No Longer Face The World You Live In, Who Will You Carry With You?

by Archangel_Clown



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft the crafting dead, The Crafting Dead - SGC Barbierian
Genre: 2 second description of dissociation, Delusions, Hospitals, Kinda, Max just wants his macaroni bro, Minor Character Death, Vague description of death, Zombies, experimentation but while it is sorta the main focus it's not rlly mentioned, max's pov, there is an animal death (a fish) but it's not in detail, vague description of flesh??? Dead things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:26:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_Clown/pseuds/Archangel_Clown
Summary: I'm gonna be honest, I just miss Marcus and I wanted to write smth about what happened to this very niche character. I don't know if niche is the right word.Anyway,2nd person POV via Max, read the tags bls for warnings!!!The title is a lot more dramatic than the story
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	When You Can No Longer Face The World You Live In, Who Will You Carry With You?

**Author's Note:**

> I am once again attatched to the background characters and you just have to deal with that I guess

You're both stuck here, in this room that feels smaller every day. The doctor comes in when you aren't awake. You only know this because you woke up as he was leaving, once, and your roommate's IV had been refilled. A different substance than before, though.

He comes in at night, because neither of you have the energy to be up then. During the day, you're observed, but you've gotten good at ignoring when the doctor comes to stare through the window and observe. When he leaves, you pick around the bookshelves and make jokes about the IV fluids being special edition Kool Aid flavors.

Your roommate, who once scoffed at the jokes, has started laughing instead. He finds books he's read a million times before, and finds new ways to make them fun, the nerd. You've started joining in with him, elbowing into his space to read with him. He likes to read in his head. You like to guess where he's at and read the dialogue in funny voices. You don't know if you've gotten good at guessing, or if he just humors you, or if you just know now.

Every once in a while, you have to shake him a bit to bring him back to reality. He's had to ground you more times than you can count, as well. You go into otherworldly fantasies, silly and broken and absurd like the books. He just looks more tired, his eyes sink in further, and he just stares at the walls.

He reminds you of Johnny, sometimes, as much as that scares you. You know he isn't far enough gone to bite you like Johnny, though. Both of you figured out long ago why you were here, what the doctor was doing. He'd started the virus, the end of the world, and now he was testing.

You seemed to be immune to the turn. That didn't stop it all from hurting. He was doing his best to break you. Your roommate says it's probably so that you won't tell anyone what's happened here, in case you ever get free. You make a face, and say that the only thing that'd keep you from squealing was some good box Velveeta. 

Later on, you joke that the way you're keeping track of the time is by how long his hair is getting. He whines and messes it up like that changes anything. You laugh, and for a second you feel like you'll both be fine. You're back in your apartment and the news is playing. But you're not. You're in the small room with the books you've read a hundred times and the fish that's died in the tank and your roommate who you're beginning to think isn't as immune as he's trying to make you and the doctor believe.

Even further down the line, you wake up, and he doesn't. He's still in the bed a few feet from yours, but his chest isn't rising or falling. You pretend it is. He gets up later, but he looks like Johnny. He's got red eyes and he's groaning and shuffling. It doesn't bother you, you're not sure why.

You greet him with your typical wide grin and loud voice, say something about him sleeping in. He growls in response. You spend the rest of the day with a walking corpse, laughing loudly and mocking silly voices from books, and making jokes about limited edition Kool Aid flavors. 

The doctor doesn't open the doors until Marcus is missing flesh because it's rotted off, doesn't open the doors until you're too caught up in your own mind and delusions to care about reality. He opens the door and leaves it open, he steps to the side. 

Marcus shuffles out, and stops. You dump out one of the IV bags and grab the floating fish from the tank before hurrying after him. You throw an arm over his shoulder, and talk about going to get some macaroni, telling him that the fish is going to be a good friend for Devin, you think. You don't remember if birds like to swim or not.

The doctor leaves your old clothes by the exit. He's left the cleaver there, too. You drop the fish for the knife, and show it to Marcus. You remember this, you laugh, remember when you were scared to let go of it, you ask him. He rumbles slightly. You laugh again, and throw on your old clothes. There's still a hole in the shoulder from your bite. You call it a fashion statement and move on.

The fish is forgotten, you hold the cleaver in one hand and drag Marcus with you with the other. Come on, you tell him, it's time to get out of Greenfield. You know a cool town, small, in the woods. It's got a lot of hats and trees, and books to read. He'll love it.

You lose track of him on the way. You don't notice, not entirely. You pretend he's there, and you recite dialogue in funny voices while you walk. 


End file.
